Want
by EvanlynPendragon
Summary: Morgana didn't want Merlin. He didn't want her. All was well. Arthur stirred up trouble. Morgana tried to make Merlin want her. She wanted him to want her. He didn't want her. All was royally messed up. Gwen watched in confusion. Arthur laughed.
1. The Wager

**Chapter One – The Wager**

Morgana was happy. Simply, materialistically, happy. She smiled against the rim of her wine goblet, watching the dancers in the centre of the room and wondering idly which one of her following would ask her to dance first tonight. Sir William, perhaps, or maybe Sir George. Probably Sir George, she decided; Sir William was still sulking after her dismissal of him the other week. Honestly, she'd had more important things on her mind than the high maintenance ego of an overstated knight.

Things like dresses and insufferable older brothers who thought that because she was a woman, her opinion was worthless and should be ignored as a matter of course. That was probably because she'd disagreed with him though. She was sure his reaction would've been rather different if she'd backed him up. _Boys_, she thought, _so touchy_. She smiled again. _So easy to manipulate_.

And speaking of boys and manipulating them, she'd better recapture Sir William's affections as out of all of her followers, he was one of the relatively intelligent ones and she rather liked his company. Her eyes scanned the guests for him. He wasn't hard to spot; he kept glancing at her from where he stood, chatting to a young woman. Trying to make her jealous. Maybe he wasn't as smart as she'd thought then, if he thought she'd fall for that.

But still, Morgana Le Fay was not about to be cast away for a fifteen year old, no matter whose daughter she was. She caught his eye and gave him a dazzling smile. He gazed at her, forgetting the woman at his side. She laughed, her eyes twinkling prettily, then turned away.

To see her step-brother looking at her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

'You're in a good mood,' he observed.

'Really? I had no idea,' Morgana replied sarcastically. Arthur was silent for a moment and she took the opportunity to throw Sir William another smile. He grinned stupidly at her and she sighed mentally; _definitely_ not as smart as she'd thought. She turned back to Arthur who was giving her his 'unimpressed' look.

'You think everybody loves you, don't you?'

She smirked at him.

'No. I _know_ everybody loves me,' she said simply, taking a sip from her goblet and looking over at the dancers again, examining the embroidery on the hem of Lady Eleanor's gown.

'I don't,' Arthur said pointlessly. She sighed in impatience.

'You don't count. You're too..._brotherly_.'

She gestured at him and continued, 'I meant every man _but_ you.'

Then she returned to ignoring him and he cast his gaze around the room, looking for someone else to prove his insufferable sister wrong. His eyes alighted on Merlin. Perfect, he thought; Merlin hadn't even to notice the existence of women as potential objects of desire yet. He faced his sister again.

'Merlin doesn't,' he said confidently. Morgana looked at him in surprise and confusion.

'Who is _Merlin_?' she asked, running through the names of every knight and noble she knew.

'_Merlin_ is my manservant,' Arthur said, grinning. 'He's over there, pouring wine for Sir Peregrine.'

She looked over, across the table where Sir Peregrine sat and standing next to him was the man she assumed was Merlin. He straightened up and she took in his dark hair and pale, clear skin. He noticed her examination of him and smiled easily at her, then moved on to offer the knight next to Peregrine more wine.

She gaped in shock. Where was the adoring grin? The stumble? The expression akin to having been clubbed over the head? He hadn't dropped the jug in his hand, smiled dopily, blushed, tripped or even seem to _realize_ that the most wanted woman in the kingdom was smiling at him. _Smiling at him!_ Knights would fight to the death for that honour! What was wrong with him! She frowned and whipped around to see Arthur's self-satisfied smirk.

'Did you plan this?' she hissed.

'Nope,' he said, popping the 'p'.

'Then why- what- this is im_possible_! He didn't even _notice_!'

Arthur's smug look intensified.

'So how does it feel being _unwanted_?' he asked grinning. She glared at him furiously.

'He may not want me now, but I will _make_ him want me. You'll see,' she bit out.

'Oh really? If you're so sure about that, would you care for a wager?' Arthur's confidence had risen dramatically at his 'winning' a point in their argument. She responded immediately.

'What terms?'

'You have _one_ month, during which you must not only catch his eye, but secure his affections as well. That means he has to like you as a _person_ and not just as the object of late-night fantasies,' Arthur declared, not being able to resist the jibe at the end.

'Are you implying that men don't like my personality?' she asked, daring him to insult her.

'Why yes. Yes I am. That is exactly what I'm implying, _dear_ sister,' he said, still smirking. She narrowed her eyes.

'Fine. By the end of the month, your manservant is going to be madly in love with me: the most desirable woman in Camelot, the woman who is so _untouchable_ to those of his class that she's practically a ghost. And he won't be allowed anywhere near me. And when that breaks his little heart into a million pieces, you will know that it was all—your—fault,' she hissed furiously.

Arthur was unfazed; Merlin would never fall prey to any of Morgana's usual snares. He was more interested in a woman's character than her body. Morgana's flirtations would have no effect on him and he would probably end up disliking her because really, not even Merlin (who could love almost anyone) would be able to find something likeable in her, manipulative fox that she was. Of this, Arthur was sure.

'How will we judge the completion of the wager?' Morgana questioned. Arthur smiled easily.

'He'll confess his feelings. To me.'

_Damn_. It would've been too much to hope that she could just get him to confess to her; she'd lost count of how many men she'd made tell her they loved her. It wasn't all that difficult, considering. But how to make him confess to Arthur… No matter, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. For now…

'Done,' she said.

'Done,' Arthur echoed. She turned away from him to consider Merlin, now pouring wine for a lady. She smiled at him coyly and he said something, to which she giggled, before he moved on to the next diner. A predatory smirk settled on her face.

_Let the games begin_.


	2. Meeting Merlin

**Chapter Two - Meeting Merlin**

It wouldn't be hard, Morgana thought as she lay in her bed that night. A smile here, a touch there, perhaps a greeting. Admittedly, he hadn't seemed interested when she looked at him earlier that evening, but he would soon fall for her. Just like all the others. And Arthur was always talking about the idiocy of his servant so surely he wouldn't see through her false affections before it was too late.

'Perfect,' she whispered, a small smile on her face. Tomorrow, she would make herself irresistible - as in, more so than usual - and this Merlin boy would be weeping to Arthur in days. She could almost taste her victory.

'Good morning, milady.'

Gwen's voice rang out from the doorway, and Morgana heard the younger girl place her breakfast tray on the table.

'Morning, Gwen,' she replied blearily from somewhere beneath her many pillows.

'It's a beautiful day, isn't it?' Gwen almost trilled, throwing open the curtains. Morgana lifted her head, raising an eyebrow at her maid's abominable cheeriness so early in the morning. She glanced out the window and frowned. Grey clouds blanketed the sky, throwing a veil of shadow over the city below.

'Indeed...' she murmured, drawing the sheets back and slipping out of bed, shrugging on the fur coat handed to her by Gwen. She padded across the thick carpet to sit at the table, still blinking away the sleepy haze on her mind.

'What will we be dressing you for today?' Gwen asked, standing in front of Morgana's open wardrobe. Morgana picked up a strawberry and eyed it critically. _Was that a bruise?_

'The usual. Sitting silently at court by Uther's side... perhaps a visit the training grounds to see how Camelot's future knights deal with...distractions...'

A smirk settled on her face as she answered carelessly. _It _was_ a bruise_, she thought, furthering her inspection of the red fruit. Her mouth twisted in displeasure and she placed it back on the tray, wiping her fingers on the white cloth napkin.

'Very good, milady,' Gwen replied, flipping through her dresses, examining them with a practiced eye. Morgana returned her attention to the plate in front of her. She took the piece of fresh, warm bread and picked at it. Every now and again, she'd pull a little piece off and eat it slowly. It was her way of monitoring herself to make sure she didn't... let herself go like some of the women at court.

Gwen finally decided on a dress and pulled it out, turning to give her mistress a disapproving look. Morgana ignored it; Gwen's (rather negative) opinion on her eating habits was of no consequence to her. She finished her bread and chose another strawberry. It passed inspection and she bit it slowly, letting the juice stain her lips. Then she dabbed her mouth with the cloth and replaced the half-eaten strawberry on her plate, next to the bruised one.

'I'm finished,' she stated, pushing her chair back and standing. Gwen nodded unwillingly and picked up the chosen dress from where she'd laid it on the bed as Morgana slipped behind her dressing screen.

Half an hour later, Morgana sat in front of the silver mirror at her vanity, surveying Gwen's work. She turned her head from side to side, checking the evenness of her makeup. She rubbed her cherry red lips together, smiling in pleasure at her reflection. She looked at Gwen in the mirror,

'Good,' she said simply. Gwen looked pleased. Morgana stood, casting her eyes around the room.

'I'll need my purple gown mended, and the grey one needs a new sash - blue, I think - my room needs tidying and my laundry needs to be done. You may take what you will from the tray,' she paused, glancing back Gwen. 'That's all.'

Then she left, the door closing quietly behind her. Gwen exhaled the breath she'd been holding in relief. She'd performed perfectly. Her job was safe. And the Lady hadn't given her too many chores - she'd finish them easily before dinner. She crossed the room to the Lady's abandoned breakfast, resolving to begin them as soon as she'd eaten.

_Well_, Morgana thought, _going to court was a _complete _waste of time_. Not only had the Merlin boy _not_ been in attendance, Sir William _had_ been, and had taken the opportunity to send her almost continuous smouldering glances. Or at least, he clearly thought they were smouldering. In Morgana's point of view, they bordered on ridiculous. She'd tried to tolerate him but after about half an hour, she'd given up and begun ignoring him and his 'sultry' stares as a matter of course.

She sat now on one of the benches on the edge of the training arena, watching her half-brother beat the stuffing out of one of the squires with detached amusement. Suddenly, there was an almighty crash to her left and her head turned instinctively to the source of the noise.

Sprawled on the sandy ground, surrounded by what looked to be most of a suit of armour, was Merlin. Morgana couldn't help but smile at the exasperated look on his face as he began collecting the pieces of armour. Remembering herself, she schooled her features and stood, an idea forming in her mind. She approached him, fighting a smirk at the string of half-hearted curses that he muttered under his breath as he picked up the various parts of the plate armour. She reached him and crouched to help, catching his eye and smiling as he looked up.

'Thanks,' he said, surprise evident in his tone as they stood.

'You're welcome,' she replied, 'where are you taking these?' She held up the gauntlet and shin guards in her hands.

'Back to Arthur's room - but I've got it, you don't have to-'

'I'll help,' she paused, and then grinned conspiratorially at him. 'Arthur's an idiot; nobody can carry all that armour without dropping some of it, and certainly not up all the stairs you have to climb to reach his room.'

He still looked surprised, as if expecting her to yell 'fooled you' and run, but he accepted her words. She snorted mentally at the idea; as if she would ever be so common. They began to walk towards the castle, him following her pace. After a few minutes of (though Morgana would never admit it to herself) comfortable silence, she decided to ask his name; it would be improper if she slipped up and used it before they had introduced themselves.

'I'm sorry, I don't know your name...' she lied. He flushed and replied quickly,

'Merlin, milady. Just Merlin. You?' He stumbled over his words, but she knew his embarrassment stemmed from his forgetting to introduce himself and had nothing to do with her. She laughed,

'Morgana. But I think you knew that,' he ducked his head and grinned at her.

'Of course,' she returned his smile. They'd reached the castle doors by now.

'So, you're Arthur's manservant then?'

'That's me,' he said cheerfully.

'Is he awful?' she asked, truthfully wondering what Arthur was like with his servant; why he'd been so quick to use him in their wager. Merlin's response was immediate and earnest.

'No! Well, a bit- more than a bit- but mostly he's a really good master,' she frowned a bit.

'Really?' he nodded emphatically.

'He gives me a thousand chores a day but he's never hit me or anything- well, not seriously anyway. Plenty of nobles do and the Gods know I've given him reason to - he keeps saying he should but I know he won't-'

Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to and his ears turned bright red as he tripped over himself to take back his unintentional insult.

'I mean- I didn't- not that you're- not _you_-'

'Merlin.'

'I just- not that- I didn't mean to imply-'

'_Mer_lin.'

'I would never say- I didn't- and _you_-'

'_Merlin_.'

'_You_ would never- Hit a servant- I mean. I think...'

'Merlin!'

'I- I hope..?' He trailed off awkwardly. She glanced upward as if begging for strength.

'_Relax_. I know you didn't mean me when you referred to nobles that beat their servants,' she brushed of his semi-apology.

'Oh. Right.'

They'd reached Arthur's room and she followed him inside, placing the shin guards and gauntlets on the table. He dropped the armour in his arms on the table and parts rolled everywhere. He sighed and bent down to retrieve the gauntlets and hauberk that had fallen under the table. He straightened, grinning triumphantly and put them carefully on the table, watching them for a second to make sure they wouldn't fall again. Then he turned back to Morgana and bowed.

'Thanks for your help... Milady,' he tacked the title on at the end after a pause, having seemingly forgotten it before. She inclined her head,

'You're welcome. ... Merlin,' she mimicked his phrasing. Then she turned and walked to the door. Suddenly she stopped and faced him again,

'And just for the record... I wouldn't,' then she slipped out of the room, a triumphant smirk of her own settling on her face. _Just you watch, Arthur Pendragon_, she thought, _your servant boy is doomed to love me_. She might have to put up with the irritating clumsiness and inability to think before speaking for a few days, but it would be as easy as she'd first imagined to win the man's heart; he seemed the type to find the best in everyone and love them for it. His defence of Arthur had proved _that_.

_Speaking of which..._

There was Arthur, trudging up the stairs, looking for all the world like someone had dropped a bucket of mud over him and let it dry. He was grinning tiredly and Morgana couldn't help but laugh internally at the thought of Merlin's face when he saw the state of the armor he'd be expected to clean. He met her eye and gave her a suspicious look. She returned it with an innocent one. He frowned, hurrying to his room, where he probably expected to find a bath and an explanation. She had a feeling he would be less than pleased when he received neither. _In fact..._

'_Mer_lin!'

She could hear Arthur yelling from his room. Merlin's bumbling muttered apologies filtered through the door and she laughed.

She might actually _enjoy_ completing this wager.


	3. Womanly Wiles

**Chapter Three - Womanly Wiles**

Morgana watched him that night at dinner. He stood behind Arthur, slightly slouched as he waited for his master to give him a task. She noted the difference between him and the rest of the servants: where they hovered anxiously behind their respective nobles, desperate to please, he leaned on the wall behind Arthur's chair, perfectly content to wait for his orders (rather than anticipate his wants as was usually expected) and tease him about being a needy prat when said orders came.

Eventually, Arthur laughed him off, sending him on a wine round 'to get rid of him'. Merlin rolled his eyes but left, picking up the wine jug and heading around the table with it. She saw, with some disbelief, his unending cheeriness as he served the nobility. The visiting nobles (the Sullivans) seemed as surprised as she was at his smiles and happy manners. Indeed, Marianne Sullivan seemed almost _charmed_ by it, as she batted her eyelashes at him, giggling, and engaged him in small talk, halting his progress.

Morgana ignored the spark of irritation at the way he returned her smiles and quips like they were old friends. Didn't he notice the fact that she was blatantly flirting with him? That _idiot_, she fumed at Merlin. And little Miss _Sullivan_ had better-

'Morgana?'

She looked at Arthur.

'Yes?'

'Just to clarify - it's for bragging rights.'

She nodded.

'Good,' he said and turned back to his food. Uther glanced at the pair of them,

'You're not gambling again, are you?' he asked disapprovingly.

'No, milord,' they replied immediately out of habit. Uther wasn't fooled; they only called him 'milord' when they wanted him off their backs about something. He shook his head wearily,

'Of course not...' Morgana returned her attention to her plate.

Bragging rights was what she and Arthur always bet over. They, being the King's son and ward, were left wanting nothing. At least, no material object. So they had developed their own system of rewarding whoever won their bets (and they'd had many). That system had been bragging rights.

Whoever won would be allowed to brag about any and all of the bets they had ever won as well as the most recent one. The loser would have their bragging rights taken from them and wouldn't be allowed to so much as mention any of the wagers that they'd won in the past. Tradition dictated that the winner would also be responsible for mocking the loser until said loser wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. If the loser snapped and brought up one of their past successes, the itching powder would be 'borrowed' from Gaius's stores and put inside the clothes of the loser directly before dinner.

It was a very harsh system and they enforced it mercilessly. It made losing truly horrible but also made both of them only more eager to win and reap the rewards of watching the other suffer under Uther's suspicious eye. But they did have one other rule:

They would mock each other _only_ in private. They would not under any circumstances allow anyone else to know about it; they both knew that mockery in public would undermine their image, their power, and neither of them were foolish enough to risk losing face in front of their people.

'Wine, milady?' Merlin's voice startled her out of her reverie and she glanced up at him. She recovered instantly.

'Oh, yes, thank you,' he leaned over and she waited for the inevitable: the look down her dress that male servants (and men in general) seemed unable to resist taking. Usually it irritated her, but tonight she'd been counting on it, thinking that, being a _man_, he would at least peek.

She should've known better.

Merlin didn't so much as glance down. He seemed far more concentrated on not spilling anything than looking at her. He straightened and she remembered to thank him again; men always responded better to appreciation. He just bobbed his head, smiling, and went away.

For the second time, she wondered what on earth was wrong with him. He was the first man (Arthur notwithstanding though even he had peeked when he was about thirteen) that hadn't taken any given opportunity to admire her in such a way. She frowned. Maybe he loved someone else; maybe he loved them enough that her advances would mean nothing to him. That was probably it. If that was the case though... Should she let herself lose or continue regardless and hope to overcome his love for whoever he'd bestowed it on? Perhaps she should call off the bet...

Then she stopped - it wasn't as if her theory had been confirmed. She needn't plan ahead; she could figure something out later, if he did turn out to love another. But how to find out...

Gwen. Surely Gwen would know. She looked behind her for her maidservant. Yes, there she was, standing with Merlin. They talked quietly, easy smiles on their faces. So they were friends. She almost laughed when she saw that though Gwen kept an eye out to make sure her lady wasn't wanting anything, Merlin was completely ignoring his master. Gwen said something to him and he nodded, saying something for which she gave him a reproving grin. Then she hurried over to Morgana.

'Did you need something, milady?' she shook her head.

'No,' she smiled, 'I'm just checking on you.'

Gwen curtsied and returned to her conversation with Merlin. Yes, Morgana decided, she'd talk to her tonight. But for now, she would enjoy her meal. At least, the socializing part - the actual eating part she would probably enjoy less, but that was normal.

'Will that be all, milady?' Gwen asked, after handing a sleeping draught to her mistress. Morgana took it, smiling slightly. She was sitting up in bed, Gwen standing a little way away from her. A respectful distance.

'Just one more thing,' she said slowly, gazing at the little bottle in her hand and wondering how to get the information she wanted without arousing her maid's suspicions.

'That man you were talking to at dinner - Merlin wasn't it?' Gwen nodded. 'Are you and he...?' She trailed off suggestively. At first, Gwen didn't seem to understand, then the metaphorical penny dropped and she turned bright red at the implication and hurried to contradict her.

'_Mer_lin and me? No! No- Gods no! We're not- I mean-' she composed herself quickly. 'What I mean to say, milady, is that Merlin and I are just friends. We just don't see each other... like that.'

Morgana smiled a little at the younger woman.

'Is there someone, though? A serving girl perhaps?' Morgana probed. 'Or some unattainable lady at court?' She laughed. Gwen looked at her strangely; it wasn't like her lady to inquire about the lives of servants.

'Why do you ask?'

Morgana paused, thinking of a plausible reason (she refused to call it an excuse) why she would want to know such a thing.

'He is popular amongst the servants,' _and the nobles_, she added privately, 'I just wondered... It seems strange that he spends all his time with Arthur and almost none with women.' Gwen smiled.

'Well, Merlin is odd... that's probably why everybody likes him, but no, there's no woman. It's not that there aren't women who want him, there are - about half of the kitchen girls are in love with him - but he hasn't shown an interest in any of them. And apparently there's no woman back home either.'

Morgana frowned.

'How strange...' she murmured.

'It is a bit, isn't it?' Gwen agreed, 'Will that be everything?'

'Yes, that's all,' she replied and downed the horrible tasting medicine, then slid further under the blankets as Gwen put the candles out and left the room quietly, saying a soft 'goodnight' as she closed the door.

Morgana lay in the dark. _Well_, she thought, _that's one theory disproved..._

_What now?_


	4. Planning and Plotting and Bullying Maids

Chapter Four - Plotting and Planning and Bullying Maids

'Thank you,' Morgana said absently as Gwen set her tray down in front of her. Gwen bobbed a curtsey and smiled but Morgana wasn't paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, namely on the dopey manservant of her step-brother and more specifically, how to get his attention. She needed some way of making sure she saw him more often, some reason that they should speak regularly.

She'd drawn a complete blank on any possible circumstances that might throw him into her path on a daily basis. After all, they had lived completely separate lives before now; if there had been some need to see each other they would have been aquatinted earlier. She picked at her food thoughtfully, looking around her chambers for some form of inspiration.

Her gaze stopped on the medicine bottle on her bedside table. She frowned; what was that doing there? Gwen followed her line of vision and saw the object that she'd forgotten about when cleaning her mistress's room that morning. She hurried to take it away, apologizing as she did.

Morgana's lips curved up as an idea took place in her head. When Gwen returned, she stood quickly and rushed over to her maid, a look of concern coming over her.

'Gwen!' she exclaimed. Gwen's eyes widened and she gave Morgana a confused look; since when did the lady address her by her first name? Morgana pretended not to notice the look and clasped Gwen by the arms, continuing,

'Are you alright? You look _awful_!' Gwen looked surprised and more than a little bit insulted.

'I do?'

Morgana wasted no time assuring her that she did indeed look terrible.

'Yes, abso_lutely_! You don't look well at _all_! In fact, I think you should probably take the rest of the day off, don't you? Yes, I think that would be for the best,' Gwen was looking more and more bewildered as Morgana spoke.

'But I feel fine, milady,' she protested. Morgana ignored her and focused on shepherding her towards the door.

'No, no, I absolutely _insist_. You really look like you need some rest.'

Gwen stopped.

'I'm serious, I feel just fine,' she argued heatedly, forgetting to use Morgana's title. Morgana stopped, then looked Gwen in the eye and said, voice laden with implication.

'_Gwen. _You _don't look well_. You should _go home_. Don't worry about me. I'm sure you can find _someone_ to deliver my medicine tonight,' Gwen stared back, uncomprehending, then her eyes got even wider and she said.

'Oh. _Oh_. Alright, in that case, I feel _quite_ ill. I'm sure I couldn't last the rest of the day. I'll just tell _Merlin_ to bring you you're medicine tonight, and then I'll go home,'

There was a slight questioning tone in her voice as she said his name. Morgana smiled.

'That sounds acceptable,' Gwen smiled back, still a little surprised by her mistress's behaviour. She dropped a curtsey and left the room. Morgana allowed herself to grin as the door closed. Now, she'd just have to wait.

'Merlin!' Gwen cried, sighting her friend ambling across the courtyard. He turned and she ran over to him.

'Hi, Gwen,' Merlin said cheerfully, 'How are you?'

'Oh, fine, and you?' she returned.

'Good, Arthur just sent me to muck out the stables. Again. What're you doing?'

She laughed.

'Not much. I'm supposed to ask you if you could deliver the Lady Morgana's sleeping draught tonight,' he looked surprised.

'Of course, I guess, but why?'

At this point Gwen remembered that she was supposed to be ill enough to merit a day off and coughed hurriedly.

'Milady's given me the rest of the day off. Because I've been sick, you see. So I won't be able to get it to her.' She paused, 'Because I'm sick,' she explained, coughing again.

'So you should really do that. Bring the Lady her medicine, that is. Tonight. Before bed. You really should. Because you're Merlin. And you live with Gaius, and he's the physician. And he makes Lady Morgana's medicine, because he's the physician, and you live with him, because you're his nephew, and you live with him, so you should really do that. Deliver her medicine.'

Merlin gave her the 'are you sure you're mentally stable?' look. She continued regardless, babbling her somewhat incoherent reasoning much to Merlin's amusement.

'Because you're the best person for the job, because you live with the physician. Not for any other reason, of course. Why would there be another reason? There's no other reason, just that you- you're you. And I'm sick.'

Merlin gave her another look and she coughed once more to demonstrate her being sick.

'Alright, I'll get it to her. Don't worry about it, Gwen. Really. It's fine,' he said smiling a bit bemusedly.

'Oh. Alright then. Well. I'd best be going now. Home, that is. Going home. I am. Because I'm sick,' she finished and turned on her heel and hurried away, heading, Merlin noted silently, away from her house, rather than to it. He shook his head and began making his way to the stables.

_Women_.

As it turned out, waiting was a very difficult task, particularly when it took about nine hours and there was very little Morgana could do to pass the time. She'd sat in her chambers nibbling at her lunch until it went cold. Then she'd attended court, but when Uther called an end to the trialling of various miscreants and the Royal Treasurer bustled in with an armful of scrolls covered in numbers and equations she'd hightailed it out of there with as much dignity as was befitting of a Lady escaping hours of maths.

After her close call with the most hated of the King's duties, she wandered down to the training grounds but they were empty. _Lazy knights_, she thought, irritated, as she began to walk in the direction of her chambers, intent on finding some poor servant to order about for a while. She eventually came across one called Amanda and wasted no time in sending her to fetch new flowers and criticizing her choice when the girl returned with an armful of tulips. Morgana sent her away to bring some lilies and then decided she liked the tulips more and told the girl to put them in someone else's rooms.

The (now quite upset at being harassed) young servant was then sent on a mission to visit the seamstresses to collect a purple gown that Morgana told her should have been finished by that day. After the girl left Morgana looked back at the purple gown on her bed that she had never actually sent down to the seamstress and smirked evilly at the thought of the girl's face when she realized that there was no dress to collect. Ten minutes later, Amanda returned, looking close to tears as she explained that she was terribly sorry but the seamstresses didn't have the dress. Morgana sighed and decided to take pity on the poor thing.

'My mistake. I forgot that I hadn't had the gown sent to seamstresses yet. You wouldn't mind taking it down, would you? Then you're free to go,' she plastered a fake smile onto her face as she gestured towards the dress behind her. Amanda looked as though she might like to take the gown and strangle her with it. Morgana fought the urge to grin.

'Yes, milady,' Amanda said through clenched teeth, curtseying, then picking up the dress and walking stiffly out of the door. Morgana smiled; teenagers were so easily riled.

Bullying Amanda carried her through to around three o'clock and left her with nothing to do. She brushed her hair for a little while, then paced, then lay down and tried to rest. And failed miserably. She could no more sleep in the afternoon than she could fly. She considered her options: she could a) do nothing, b) return to Uther's finance meeting, or c) spin. Option A wasn't really an option and she would pick death over Option B, so that was out of the question, which left Option C.

Spinning. There were very few things that Morgana enjoyed less than that particular activity. Among the few were sticking needles through the skin between her fingers, being punched in the stomach by Arthur (they'd been nine and she'd called him a pig - Uther had yelled at him, confiscated his wooden practice sword and confined him to his chambers for a week), watching the King execute people for practicing magic and maths.

Spinning meant sitting in a room of women all gossiping about who was courting who and who was getting married and who was pregnant and whose husband was bedding which serving girl (or boy). And all of the above would have to be borne _whilst_ performing the actual task of spinning. Without the spinning, the gossip might be tolerable or even a little enjoyable, depending on whom it was about, and the spinning, if performed in solitude, might also be but together, the two were almost utterly unacceptable.

Almost. In this case, she knew with unquestionable certainty that she would just have to swallow her distaste and immerse herself in the cruelly dubbed 'women's work'. She wrinkled her nose irritably; some man had probably discovered how terrible a task spinning was and paraded it about that it was a job for the other sex, condemning generations of poor girls to lifetimes of spinning and idle gossip. She stood and began to walk (very slowly) towards the little hall set aside for the women to spin or weave.

When she finally reached the doorway to the room, she steeled herself, taking a deep breath and lifting her chin, before pushing open the door and entering. The women looked up in surprise. _Fair enough_, she thought; she did usually avoid this room like the plague. Unsurprisingly, Lady Anne (one of the few women whose company she could bear or almost enjoy) recollected herself first, nodding and smiling warmly at her.

'Lady Morgana. What brings you to our corner of the castle?'

Morgana took a seat next to her and picked up a spindle as the ladies returned to their spinning.

'The same thing that brings you here, I'd imagine: a lack of anything better with which to occupy the time,' Lady Anne nodded, not looking at her. She didn't mind; if Lady Anne disagreed with her that was her business and Morgana could hardly care less. She turned her attention to the wooden tool in front of her and began to sink in to the familiar rhythm. Pinch, spin, stop, switch, pinch. Pinch, spin, stop, switch, pinch.

It wasn't long before the other women started up what had probably been a positive hive of activity before her arrival. Or at least, a _discussion_ on the activities of others. Miss Kaitlyn piped up.

'Did you all hear about Miss Bethany?'

The ladies all said that they hadn't heard anything of her, and begged Kaitlyn to tell.

'Well! Only the other day, she was caught with a _servant_!'

Morgana paused to look up, interested. _Could it be Merlin...?_

'A _stable boy_! In her room! Did you ever hear of such a scandal?'

The women owned that they had not and that they longed to hear more. Morgana had returned to her spinning; Merlin was _not _a stable boy so she would learn nothing from this girl's tales.

'Rumour has it, my friends, that _she_ was in nothing but her _shift,_ and _he_ was without his shirt!'

The assembly exclaimed in surprise and immediately began to speculate. Morgana forced back a sigh (proper ladies did _not_ show their displeasure in company) and resigned herself to an afternoon of ignoring idle chit chat and planning tonight's manoeuvre.

Five hours later, Morgana left the hall, very much more knowledgeable than she had entered it. For instance, she now knew that the young Lady Georgiana had thrown away her life at court to marry a commoner called Thomas Alderman for love ('_how_ _shocking!_'), Lady Adriana was with child (_'delightful!'_), Sir Lambert was having a closet affair with Adam the stable brat (_'outrageous!'_), and Lady Erin was fighting with her husband over his supposed bedding of her sister. In this, Erin had quickly been declared to be 'a cruel, lying cow' and cast as the villain of the story, seeing as her husband was not only a kind, faithful man, but also incapable of bedding _anyone_, hence, it must simply be Erin's horrid character that caused the fight. Needless to say, Lady Erin was most definitely _not _present at their gossip session.

Morgana was not entertained. As the women exclaimed and laughed and censured each other and various members of their acquaintances, it was all she could do to not stab them all to death with her spindle. She fairly fled back to the safety and solitude of her chambers, determined to while away the hour before dinner by getting herself ready _without _the help of a maid.

The hour passed quickly. A good part of it was spent on choosing a dress, the next on forcing the dress over her head and not drowning in the terrifying amount of cloth that made the skirt, almost a full ten minutes to lace up her bodice and the last few minutes dabbing on rouge and staining her lips. Morgana resisted the urge to hurry, resigning herself to making an entrance. Not that she didn't enjoy being the centre of attention, but this was not the time for such meagre entertainment; she had much more important things to focus on and Arthur's manservant would hardly be free to stare at her if he was already serving her accursed brother.

Shaking off her negative thoughts, she lifted herself, straightening and adopting a sultry, regal expression that only _she_ could achieve, and almost waltzed down to the dining hall, as was her wont. Arriving in front of the massive doors, she stopped to double-check her breathing and comportment, then gave Gavin, or Gabe or whatever his name was, a flirtatious smile and a genteel wave of the hand, indicating that the he and the older guard should open the door.

He did so, blushing and fumbling slightly as he reached for the circular wooden handles, and she swept forward into the room. Uther looked up and uttered the necessary greeting, then returned his attention to his food, an action which suited her just fine; she could hardly behave as she had to in order to get Merlin's attention if her _step-father_ was watching. Merlin hardly glanced at her but Arthur, however, smirked and, taking a sip of wine, said conversationally,

'Morgana, I understand you've undertaken another of your... pet projects... How's that going for you?'

Morgana could have murdered him. With a spoon. How dare he bring that up at the dinner table! In front of Uther! And Merlin! With difficulty, she forced back the homicidal urges and instead replied sweetly,

'Perfectly well, actually – I have every belief in my success,' she paused, 'Actually, I would not be surprised if this project was completed within the week,' she smiled benignly. 'It's going _so_ well...'

Arthur nearly choked on his wine and had to swallow hard, his cheeks slightly pink as he forced out his next words in as calm a manner as possible.

'Is that so? Why is that?' Morgana didn't reply, choosing instead to glance down into her goblet and smile, as if recalling something. Arthur looked as though he wanted desperately to question her further but knew not how to do so without giving the game away, so he was forced to return to his dinner, sullen and annoyed. Morgana smiled wickedly;

Oh, it was _fun_ to be mean.


	5. Something May Be Seriously Wrong

Morgana swept into her room, her favourite predatory smirk settling on her lips. She shut the door behind her with a gentle thud. Then she turned and almost flew to her wardrobe, opening the double doors and searching for her night gowns. Finally finding them behind her formal wear, she pulled them out and laid them on her bed. The first was discarded immediately for the heinous crime of looking like a sack, the second tossed in the furthest corner of her room after the discovery of a humiliating red-brown stain on the back, and the third was just plain ugly. After going through about half of her night gowns (and wondering how on earth she'd acquired some of them), she finally found it. The gown. The one that Lady Henrietta had given her when she turned 16 and was deemed marriageable.

It had two layers, one of silk, and one of a soft cotton. The silk bodice fitted perfectly against her skin, tightening under her bust and finishing at her hips. The top layer was low cut, and tightened beneath her bust in the same way that as the bodice did, then again at her waist, flowing out a little to emphasise her hips, then went down to her feet. Not long enough to trip over, but long enough to be subtle in its suggestiveness.

She wriggled into the dress and reached behind her to tighten the laces. Smoothing the front down, she moved to her mirror. Oh God, her _hair_. She made an exasperated noise and picked up a brush with one hand, then scooped up the discarded dresses and shoving them back into the corner of her wardrobe. Gwen would put them away properly tomorrow. Checking herself in the full-length mirror again, she settled in front of her vanity and put a little more colour in her cheeks – surely even Merlin couldn't resist the 'blushing bride' appearance. Now all she had to do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And-

For heaven's sakes, where on earth was Merlin! Morgana glared into her mirror. What exactly did he think gave him the right to be late? It was probably Arthur… It would be just like him to purposefully keep Merlin in so that there was no chance of his running into her. Then again, how would Arthur even know about Merlin's extra duty? Why would Merlin tell Arthur about it? He didn't know about the bet, and servants don't really converse with their masters anyhow so _why was he taking so long?_ Insufferable brat, she seethed.

Her train of thought continued, becoming more and more cruel in her choice of insults, until a tentative knock against the door roused her from her musings. She stood and crossed to her bed, settling herself against the headboard and picking up the book she kept by her bedside. She focused on the words before her and called out,

"Come in."

The door opened a crack and Merlin slipped through the space.

"My lady?" His gaze landed on her and he flushed, "Oh- I'm sorry- I didn't think- sorry."

He turned away, and Morgana hid her shock at his total lack of ogling, plastering a smile onto her face.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Turn around."

"But you're not dressed-"

"Merlin. I wouldn't have asked you to enter if I was uncomfortable with you seeing my attire. Won't you turn around?" _Good God, why did he have to be such a damned _gentleman_. Really, it's getting in the way of your falling in love with me so please just act like any other man, just for a bit._

He turned very slowly, eyes on his feet.

"You can look at me, you know. I won't tell if you don't, and it's a little awkward having a conversation with someone who won't look at me."

He glanced up. She smiled at him, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Oh relax, Merlin. I think we both know that this," she fingered the skirt of her gown, "is no more revealing than the dresses I wear in court."

"Indeed? I wasn't aware that the dresses you wear in court were almost transparent," he challenged her. Morgana laughed, hiding her surprise admirably; she hadn't expected that kind of backbone from him. But she liked it. Maybe this bet wouldn't be so dull after all.

"Touché. But no one else has to know, and I simply couldn't be bothered waiting to get ready for bed."

He ducked his head a little.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to be so late. Arthur was being picky."

She laughed again.

"I'm not surprised. But it doesn't matter," she made eye contact, "you're here now, aren't you?"

He smiled back at her.

"Yeah. And speaking of, I come bearing sleeping draught."

He approached and produced a familiar bottle from his jacket, bowing elaborately and proffering it to her. She bit back a grin and took it from him and he straightened up.

"Thank you, Merlin."

He bobbed his head.

"You're welcome, milady.' He jerked his thumb at the door, "I'd probably better go though. Arthur will put me in the stocks again if I'm late for work tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

He opened the door.

"Goodnight, milady. Sweet dreams."

And then he'd left, and the door was shut behind him. Morgana stared at the space he'd been in. Where had she gone wrong? She'd been dressed (or undressed) to impress, she'd positioned herself suggestively on the bed, been charming and flirty and he'd just… not even reacted. Well, he had, but not quite in the way she was expecting.

He'd been mortified at invading her privacy, yes, and embarrassed about being late or whatever, but he hadn't seemed in the least bit… _unsettled_ by the sight of her, like most men were. He hadn't gotten flustered, he hadn't stammered, or propositioned her, or done _anything_! It was infuriating. Really, how dare he be impervious to her obvious beauty, unaffected by her attention? It just wasn't _right_, she almost whined.

With a huff, she put her book down and curled up under her comforter. She was beginning to wonder if there wasn't something seriously wrong with her brother's manservant.

Merlin was confused.

Why was everybody behaving so strangely over the last few days? It was beginning to grate on his nerves. It had begun with being approached by the Lady Morgana, then continued with her _speaking _to him, and not long after, Gwen panicking and doing that thing she does where she talks in circles when she's trying to hide something, then Arthur and the Lady Morgana having a loaded conversation at dinner, then Arthur being insufferable after dinner, and now the Lady Morgana insisting that he turn around and look at her when she was clearly _not_ decent! Perhaps they were all enchanted… but why? And who would have the power? Frankly, it was unnerving. He didn't like it.

Not one bit.


	6. Arthur Thinks and Morgana Laughs

Chapter Six - Arthur Thinks and Morgana Laughs

_Earlier that evening…_

Arthur was worried. Very worried. He'd been so convinced of his servant's impassion towards his vile (but unfortunately beautiful) sister that he'd had no qualms in betting against her that night. Merlin was Merlin and as far as he, Arthur, knew, still totally impervious to the allurements of women. But Morgana had seemed so damned confident over dinner! He wanted so much to be able to call it a bluff and throw it back in her face, but he couldn't be sure that it wasn't the truth. Morgana had enchanted so many men over the years it suddenly seemed unlikely that one rather unremarkable manservant would be able to resist her.

Morgana's words rang in his head… "_your manservant is going to be madly in love with me: the most desirable woman in Camelot, the woman who is so untouchable to those of his class that she's practically a ghost. And he won't be allowed anywhere near me. And when that breaks his little heart into a million pieces, you will know that it was all—your—fault."_

He felt vaguely nauseous. Like someone was clenching their hand around his stomach and spinning it around like a child's top.

Merlin was currently bumbling around his room in some semblance of servitude, but looked more like a one-man troop of players performing a comedy of errors, and the continuous movement, seeing him trip from place to place, around and around, wasn't helping Arthur's stomach stay in place.

"_Mer_lin! For the love of Camelot, stop humming," Arthur growled. Merlin shot him a hurt look, and then huffed as only he could, and stalked off to the other side of the room to begin shoving Arthur's clothes into their drawers with more than the usual amount of force. Arthur shifted regretfully, and wondered briefly if he should apologize – then the sound of Merlin humming loudly (and deliberately out of tune) reached him and he decided he wouldn't bother.

Arthur couldn't help but picture Merlin in a month's time if Morgana's prediction came true. Would he be slow and quiet, never speaking unless ordered to? Or like some of the younger boys, fidgety and jittery and liable to start sobbing at any moment? Arthur shuddered at the thought. Heartbreak on Merlin would just look wrong; a direct contradiction to his seemingly unflappable optimism.

Arthur felt guilty already and Morgana hadn't even won yet. Not that she would win, Arthur would be sure of that. He refused point blank to allow his manservant to be the one to get hurt in this. It just wouldn't be fair. Knights were supposed to fight their own battles, and although this one was against his step-sister and the code also implied that knights shouldn't fight women, the point still stood, damn it.

But he couldn't really fight this battle alone. Not properly. He would just have to ensure that Merlin won. The Gods would just have to forgive him for this breach of betting etiquette because he wasn't doing it for himself; he was doing it to save another person from hurt. And Arthur liked saving people. So it had to be done.

Although… he might have been lying about the 'not doing it for himself' part. While wanting to protect the younger, weaker, less important, more pathetic man was a great part of his newfound ambition, there was also the rather loud voice reminding him that if he didn't do something, it would be him, Arthur, who would have to put up with the emotional wreck that Merlin would be. And that was possibly the most unappealing thought he could think of.

You know, except for having to deal with Morgana strutting around as though she owned the castle. He shuddered in horror. Anything, _anything_ but that… He was going to have to think really, really hard about this…

…Later.

_The next day_…

"Mor-ning!" sang the ironically energetic Merlin as he threw open the curtains of Arthur's bedroom. Arthur shot him a ferocious glare – the effect of which was tragically lost owing to the fact that Merlin was facing the other way – and shoved his face underneath one of his many pillows.

"Go. Away," Arthur groaned, his charitable thoughts towards his servant totally gone.

"What's got your trousers in a twist?" asked Merlin with all of the blatant disrespect that Arthur had come to expect from his obscenely tall manservant.

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur was most certainly _not_ a morning person, as was aptly demonstrated by the torrent of swear words that escaped him when he emerged from underneath his pillow to greet the blinding light of a new day. Merlin stared at him in some surprise.

"What?" asked Arthur, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's just… well… that was rather creative of you," he said, apparently quite amazed. Now here it must be noted that while some people's vanity demands a new comeback for everything, Arthur was not one of those people. He was, in fact, a true believer in the classics.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Okay."

"Now, Merlin."

"I am shut up! I'm totally silent! Quiet as a grave; reticent as a mute; soft as a-"

"_Mer_lin!"

"Shutting up…"

At this point words failed the prince and he was reduced to the subtle and exact art of pillow-throwing while growling unintelligibly – which he was rather good at, all things considered. In spite of his painfully proper upbringing, he'd gotten in a lot of practice over the time Merlin had been around, bless his girly heart.

Around half an hour later, Arthur had been successfully wrangled into his trademark, open-collar red shirt and training pants. Strapping on Arthur's sword belt, Merlin chanced a question,

"Are you meeting your father after training?"

Arthur grunted as Merlin pulled the belt tighter and clipped it on.

"We're going over the guard distribution – Father thinks we're wasting them on one of the borders."

"What do you think?" Merlin asked.

"I think he's not thinking straight. Gorett is in Cendred's kingdom and they're his men through and through. I don't trust them."

"Cendred's men aren't all bad – I'm from around there, you know," Merlin objected. Arthur gave him his 'shut it – you know what I mean' look.

"You're the exception."

"Mum's good too," Merlin pointed out. Arthur sighed in exasperation.

"Yes, she is."

"And Will is- was-" Merlin said, still stumbling over the name even after so long.

"Merlin – Ealdor was fine. Your mother was great, and Will was a hero. Other than that, I've never known anyone from Cendred's land that was anywhere near half decent," Arthur said firmly. "Now stop being an idiot and carry my armour down to the field."

Merlin grinned._ Merlin: 1. Arthur: 0._

Merlin was bored. He'd been watching Arthur bark at the new recruits for a full half hour now, and the monotony had begun to seriously impact his mental state. That is to say – he was going mental sitting outside in the heat with absolutely nothing to do. It was possibly his least favourite time of day, though it was lightened occasionally when one of the men made a particularly awkward mistake.

For example, only yesterday Merlin had seen a boy of about fifteen trip over his own feet while sparring, causing his sword to go skidding across the floor to get caught on his opponent's bootlace. The opponent's eyes widened incredibly as he let go of his sword and fell directly on top of the teenager.

The two swords had landed a safe distance away but the recruits had managed to become so tangled up that it had taken them almost ten minutes to get up. It turned out that the one with the undone bootlace had somehow gotten that same bootlace caught on the younger man's gauntlet, which made for some excellent comedy for Merlin.

Today though, there was no such display of incoordination to amuse him. He was just debating whether or not it was worth risking Arthur's wrath – pretend or not – when Morgana appeared, looking absurdly out of place amongst the dirt and weaponry.

He nodded at her pleasantly and she smiled.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"And to you. How are you?"

"I'm good. What about you? Has Arthur managed to run you into the ground yet?" Morgana asked teasingly.

"No, today he's going for a much more subtle method," Merlin said.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes; death by boredom," Merlin informed her sagely.

"The horror!" Morgana found herself laughing in spite of herself.

"And what of you? What noble and important duties have you had to attend to?" asked Merlin.

"Well," she began, "I've had to brush my hair."

Merlin grinned.

"And choose a dress… and smile. A lot. Really, it's ridiculous the amount of work I'm expected to do here," Morgana said poshly. Merlin was laughing properly by this point and Morgana couldn't help but join in. What was wrong with her? What had happened to all of her careful planning? Her pre-prepared conversations? Merlin had singlehandedly debunked the results of a whole hour's scheming.

Enjoyable though his conversation could be – that was no excuse for such insubordination. She would have to revise her tactics. She was just beginning to do so when she heard the jingle of armour approaching. She and Merlin looked up to see Arthur striding towards them, brow creased.

"Merlin!" he called, "Gavin's hurt his ankle; he needs to see Gaius."

Merlin stood quickly, nodded politely to Morgana and disappeared without another word to help the injured page.

Morgana was once again speechless at the oddity that was her brother's manservant. How could he so easily remove himself from her company? Where were the regretful glances backwards as he walked away? The total lack of admiration was beginning to grate on her nerves. Steeling her gaze and pressing her lips together in annoyance she looked up at Arthur.

"What?" she asked shortly.

"So rude," he chastised, smirking.

"I was in the middle of a conversation-"

"Oh please, you're incapable of holding a conversation," Arthur dismissed her.

"Well then what would you call that?" she challenged, gesturing vaguely in the direction Merlin had departed in.

"I would call that a rather pathetic attempt at a manipulation," Arthur said, smiling. Morgana's smirk disappeared – the frequency with which that was occurring recently was truly alarming – and she glared at Arthur frostily.

"You, _Arthur_, are an arrogant," she stood, "insolent," she stepped towards him, "irritating," she poked him in the chest, "useless," she dug her fingernail into the exposed skin at his collar, "toe rag."

Arthur snorted and delicately removed her finger from its resting place.

"And you, _Morgana_, are a vain, pretentious little girl with too much time on her hands and not enough personality to amuse herself without hurting others," he returned cheerfully. Morgana blanched.

"You-" she seethed.

"Bye now," he said, turning and marching off. Morgana narrowed her eyes, then flounced off in the direction of the castle, fuming whole-heartedly at the insufferable nerve of her step-sibling.

She decided then and there that the bet suddenly meant a lot more to her than it had. Clearly Arthur thought she couldn't do it, so it was just as clear to her that she had to.

Her pride depended on it.


End file.
